


Let Down, Let Down, Let Down

by celeste9



Series: Fairy Tales [4]
Category: Primeval
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Fairy Tale, Alternate Universe - Fusion, Alternate Universe - Rapunzel, Banter, First Kiss, Horses, M/M, Magic, Plotty, Romance, Swordfighting, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-17
Updated: 2014-02-24
Packaged: 2018-01-12 20:43:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 5
Words: 12,039
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1199562
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/celeste9/pseuds/celeste9
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Becker has spent his entire life in a tower, interacting only with the woman who rescued him as a baby. That all changes when a strange man falls through his window... (Primeval/Rapunzel fusion)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> With thanks to fififolle for beta! And of course fredbassett for the loan of Lyle. For au: fairy tale/myth in Trope Bingo. I apologize in advance for the name of Lyle's horse...
> 
> This contains some blood and violence and a character is killed, which I would be happy to elaborate on if anyone needs.

**_Prologue_ **

Once there lived a young man and a young woman who longed for nothing more than a child of their own. Though they came from wealthy families, all of their gold could not buy them what they sought. Physicians and men of magic travelled from all over the country and even from across the sea, but none could offer a solution.

One day the woman, as she walked through the forest in despair, came across a stranger. This stranger was a traveller, a medicine woman, and after listening to the woman’s story she said, “I have studied the plants in the forest and the stars in the sky and I can give you the child you seek, but there will be a price.”

The woman, sadness lifting from her heart, agreed. The medicine woman gave her two potions, one for her and one for her husband, to be drunk when the moon was full.

“Do not forget I will come calling for what you have promised,” the medicine woman said.

But the young couple rejoiced and drank their potions, and soon the woman was with child. In their happiness they did not even think of the cost.

When several months had passed, the woman grew ill with a mysterious ailment none could cure. Fearing for the lives of his wife and their unborn child, the man stumbled through the forest, hoping against hope that fortune would favour him as it had favoured his wife those months before.

He came upon the medicine woman as she sat, sharpening the blade of a wicked-looking knife.

“I can help you again,” she said, “but the price will be much higher.”

In his desperation, the man promised, “Anything, I will give you anything you ask!”

So the medicine woman went deep into the forest and returned with a remedy to be brewed into tea.

The woman recovered and soon gave birth to a healthy baby boy. They named him Hilary for his father’s father and everyone spoke rapturously of him, his beautiful thick dark hair and the healthy glow of his skin.

But the young parents’ happiness was not to last. Before the turning of another season, the medicine woman came to collect what she was owed.

“I will have your baby,” she said.

The young couple begged and pleaded but the medicine woman said only, “You said you would give me anything.”

“Anything but this,” the man said while he held his sobbing wife, who clutched Hilary to her breast.

“You should have thought of that before you promised,” the medicine woman said.

She was a far more formidable adversary than they could ever have dreamed. She took the baby far, far from his home and though the young man and his wife expended all their resources searching, they never found him.

_**TBC** _


	2. Chapter 2

**_Chapter One_ **

Becker sat in the window and gazed down at the countryside far below. The tower he called home was so high sometimes it felt like he was in the clouds themselves, high as the tallest trees. Birds would land on the sill now and then and Becker would break up pieces of bread to toss to them.

He had never set foot on the ground. The world outside was dangerous, apparently, full of thieves and worse who would do harm to him.

Because, you see, Becker wasn’t an ordinary young man, even though he had never felt particularly special.

Helen, the woman who had raised him, had rescued him when he was only a baby, rescued him from parents who loved only what he could do for them, the riches he could earn them. She had taken him to this lonely tower in order to keep him safe.

His hair was a gift, Helen said, though Becker was more inclined to believe it was a curse. Every month, when it grew, Helen would cut it carefully and keep every strand to use in all manner of things, sachets and potions. His hair could heal, Helen said, and also harm, if you knew how to use it.

Becker didn’t. He wanted nothing to do with it.

He wondered sometimes why he was the way he was. He wondered if there wasn’t magic in his lineage, or perhaps if his parents had made a deal with fairies or sorceresses, like in the books he read. He wondered why they hadn’t loved him.

“Becker! Let down the rope!”

Becker slid out of his seat and grabbed the coils of rope from beside the window. It was woven out of straw and his own hair, flexible and strong. He tossed it down the side of the tower and waited for the tug that meant he could begin heaving it back up.

Beads of sweat had broken out on Becker’s forehead by the time Helen was able to hoist herself through the window. She had a basket over her arm and she said, “Damned merchant tried to cheat me. Those apples were old and I wouldn’t have given him that even if I’d seen him pick them myself.”

“It’s good to have standards,” Becker said, lips curving upwards into a small, bemused smile that Helen matched.

She moved past him to the small door at the opposite end of the room. It led to a tiny storage area below Becker’s room. It was filled mostly with purchases of Helen’s, as Becker had little enough to keep even in his own space.

Aside from his books. Helen liked to travel and she always brought back new books for him, tales of far away lands and long ago times. His books were the most exciting adventures Becker had ever had.

One day, Becker thought, he would like to have a real adventure of his own.

-

Becker was laying on his front on the bed, reading a book, when he heard the crash. He raised his eyes and looked towards the window.

There was a man on the floor.

Becker stared. He closed the book and took it with him as he got off the bed, thinking it was heavy enough to use as a weapon if necessary. He stopped a few steps in front of the window, watching the man climb to his feet.

The stranger looked to be slightly older than Becker himself, with short dark hair and hazel eyes. He was slim but well-built, with a sort of rugged face that wasn’t unpleasant to look upon.

He was the first real live person aside from Helen that Becker had seen in his entire life.

He adjusted the edge of his open-necked shirt and gazed at Becker. “This is more awkward than I had expected.”

Becker hefted his book. “Who are you and what are you doing here?”

“My name is Jon Lyle. Pleasure to meet you.” He held his hand out.

Becker pursed his lips and didn’t make any move to shake the man’s hand.

“And you are?” Lyle prompted, letting his arm fall back to his side.

“Becker.”

“Becker? Just Becker?”

“Just Becker. Tell me why you’re here.”

Lyle lifted and dropped his shoulders in a disarming sort of gesture, his lips quirking. “I believe I came to rescue you.”

“To rescue me?” Becker asked, frowning. He thought perhaps Lyle was touched in the head.

“Well, yes. I saw the tower and I thought... It seemed the kind of place a damsel might need rescuing from.”

“You have read entirely too many stories,” Becker said, unimpressed. Definitely touched in the head.

Lyle agreed affably, “I expect I may have done, but still, tower. Are you sure you aren’t in distress?”

Feeling fairly convinced that Lyle was relatively harmless, Becker raised his book to his chest and crossed his arms over it. “Do I look like I’m in distress?”

For some baffling reason, the way Lyle was smirking made Becker want to blush. “No, you look about as far from distressed as someone can be, honestly, you look exceedingly fine. But you are locked in a tower.”

“I’m not locked here. I choose to stay here.”

“Why?”

“Because it’s dangerous outside.”

“Okay, yes, it can be, but you’re, er...” Lyle’s eyes scanned obviously down Becker’s body and back up again. “Let’s just say you don’t exactly look like a helpless maiden. What are you afraid of?”

“I’m not afraid,” Becker said immediately. He wasn’t.

“Then I ask again, why do you stay here?”

“It isn’t safe for someone... someone like me,” Becker hedged. It sounded stupid even to him.

“You really aren’t going to tell me, are you?”

“I’m really not.”

“Okay, then,” Lyle said, sounding cheerful enough, beginning to take a stroll round the room. “Is that your mother who comes up on the rope?”

Becker was beginning to feel faintly disturbed. Frankly he was surprised it had taken even this long. “Have you been watching me?”

“Only a little. I was riding and I saw the tower, just as the woman came up and started shouting yesterday. I was curious.”

Becker didn’t really know how to respond so he simply answered Lyle’s question. “She isn’t my birth mother but she’s the only mother I’ve ever known.”

“Your real one died, then?” Though his question was impertinent, Lyle actually looked vaguely sympathetic.

“I don’t know. She didn’t want me.”

“So you never knew her.”

“No.”

“Huh.” Lyle went back to examining the titles of the books on Becker’s shelves. “You’ve got more books than I’ve ever seen in my life. Guess you don’t have much to do besides read.”

“I do other things,” Becker said defensively. What right did this stranger have to go around making judgments on Becker’s life? He knew nothing. “I draw and paint.”

Lyle waved towards the walls surrounding Becker’s bed, up on the raised level at the back of the room. “You painted the walls?”

“Yes.”

“A lot of horses.”

“I’ve never seen a real one,” Becker admitted.

Lyle blinked at him. “What? You’ve never seen a _horse_?”

Becker averted his eyes. “I don’t get out much.”

Lyle snorted. “I’ll say. Very good likenesses then, if you’ve never seen one.”

“I’ve seen pictures,” Becker said. He didn’t say that he drew the horses because he saw them in his head. He saw them every night when he closed his eyes and he didn’t know why. The horses and the men on their backs, the brave knights that Becker read about. He used to think he could be a knight when he grew up.

Now he knew that knights couldn’t live in towers.

“You know, it isn’t quite fair that you were harping at me about too many stories when you’ve covered your walls with paintings of knights.”

“I’m not the one breaking into towers, thinking I’m going to be the hero.”

“Fair point,” Lyle said, still cheerfully, taking not the slightest offense. He moved back to Becker again, taking his elbow.

Becker jerked in his grasp and Lyle held his hands up. “All right! Look, I’m not doing anything. I just want you to come to the window.”

Becker eyed him but complied. He stood at the ledge, leaning out, as Lyle stood next to him. Becker could feel the light press of Lyle’s shoulder as it brushed against his. “Okay, what?”

Lyle pointed out in the distance, towards the surrounding trees. “Look,” was all he said.

So Becker looked, and then he saw what he was meant to be looking at. Lyle’s horse, tied to a tree and standing placidly. It was far more beautiful than the pictures, even from a distance. “Oh,” he said, breathing out.

“Now you’ve seen one,” Lyle said, his voice sounding very close.

Becker swallowed. He moved away from the window - and away from Lyle. “I think you should leave, I don’t want Helen to find you here.”

A flash of something that might have been hurt crossed Lyle’s face but he only said, “If you say so. Seems to me a man who lives in a tower might want some company, but what do I know?” He sat on the window ledge and swung his legs over, then he turned back to Becker. “Maybe you could help me out?”

Rolling his eyes, Becker got out the rope.

Once he was on the ground, Lyle looked back up towards the window, shading his eyes. Becker stood back, sneaking a glance from the side where Lyle couldn’t see him.

Lyle lingered for only a minute. Then he walked to the trees where he’d left his horse, untying it and then sitting astride it. He was gone in moments.

Becker watched him until he was only a speck in the distance.

-

Becker didn’t always know where Helen spent her days. He had seen her striding purposefully away from the tower mid-morning as he sat in the window with a sketchpad, but he didn’t know where she was going. Not to the market, as she’d been yesterday. Perhaps deep into the woods to search for herbs for her potions and remedies.

If his life had been a book, Becker supposed Helen would be called a witch. That didn’t bother him. If Helen had been any other way he expected she would never have found him. He didn’t know where he’d be without Helen, but he suspected it wouldn’t be anywhere good.

As the day passed, Becker found his thoughts continually wandered to his unusual new acquaintance. He found himself longing for Lyle to return again, to resume their conversation. He hadn’t realised how starved he’d been for human contact until he’d grasped it yesterday. He wondered if Lyle was thinking of him at all, or if he had simply pushed Becker out of his mind as an oddity, easily forgotten.

The idea made him feel sad.

That was probably why, when he heard a recognisable voice floating up from the ground below the tower, it set his heart to racing.

“Becker! Becker, I know you’re up there!”

Becker strolled over to the ledge and looked out, leaning his elbows upon the sill. He gave a small, lazy wave to the figure of Lyle on the ground.

“Becker, let me up. Please?”

“Why should I do that?”

“Because if you don’t I’m just going to climb up anyway, but I’ll complain the whole time. It’ll be easier if you let me have the rope.”

Becker heaved a sigh. He tossed the rope out of the window. “You’re a very vexing man.”

“Yes, I’ve heard that once or twice before.” Lyle appeared to be fingering the end of the rope with some doubt. “Are you sure this is strong enough?”

“Do you want to come up or not?”

Lyle grasped the rope and said, “All right, pull me up!” He kicked his feet against the tower as he went, making it slightly easier for Becker. Lyle was much heavier than Helen.

When the length of rope was coiled on the floor, Lyle scrabbled over the sill and dropped in. “What’s this thing made out of? It’s terribly thin to be able to support the weight of a grown man over such a distance.”

“Straw, I suppose,” Becker answered vaguely.

Luckily, Lyle didn’t actually seem all that interested. He said, “So, did you miss me?”

“Yes, I thought about you every minute you were gone. I even dreamed of you.” That was sadly true. At least, the last bit was, and though it may not have been _every_ minute, Becker had certainly thought of Lyle more frequently than he would like to admit.

“I thought so. I knew you’d regret sending me away so quickly.”

“I regret it desperately.”

“I have that effect on people.”

“Making them want to strangle you?”

Lyle buffed his nails on his shirt. “What can I say? I’ve got a memorable personality.”

“Memorable, certainly,” Becker muttered.

If Lyle was offended, he didn’t show it. Becker had begun to wonder whether Lyle was affected by anything at all. “It seems to me that memorable things don’t happen to you much at all.”

“I don’t know what you mean.”

Lyle’s eyes were terribly expressive up close. “Becker, how long do you plan to stay locked up in this tower?”

“Until it’s safe for me to leave.”

“Can I say something? I’m going to say something. Becker, it’s _never_ going to be safe, not entirely. That’s what living is. There are bad people and dangerous creatures and accidents always waiting around the corner. You can’t live your life in a bubble just because you might get hurt.”

“I’m not afraid of being _hurt,_ ” Becker said, though it felt like a lie simply saying it. Why else was he here, if not because he was afraid?

“Then prove it,” Lyle said, and climbed out the window.

Becker looked away so as not to watch him go. He wasn’t sure whether he was mad at Lyle or mad at himself. He told himself he wasn’t disappointed at all for the visit to be so short.

Because he was mad at Lyle. Only Lyle.

-

Helen came up not long after Lyle had left. It was dangerously close, actually, and Becker feared Helen might have seen. He wasn’t sure exactly why that bothered him so much, but somehow he knew that Helen would not be pleased to know he’d been speaking with strangers.

It didn’t take long for Becker to find out what Helen knew.

“There was a man on a horse just now,” she said, turning to glance briefly out the window. “Did you notice?”

Becker shrugged, like he didn’t care in the slightest. “Was there?”

Helen was frowning. “I don’t like that someone was snooping around here, it’s dangerous. No one can know you’re here.”

“No one does.” It was easier to lie than he would have expected.

“Good. Now then, how do you feel about stew for dinner?”

“When will I leave this tower, Helen?”

Helen’s gaze was drawn to Becker, the tiniest bit of surprise showing in her eyes. “When it’s safe.”

“And when will that be?”

“I’m not a fortune teller, Becker,” Helen said, amusement playing about her mouth. “If I knew that answer, I would be a much wealthier woman.”

“What exactly do you think will happen to me out there?”

“We’ve been over this. People will want things from you, terrible people, and they won’t care what it takes.”

“I can take care of myself,” Becker said, though in all honesty, he had no idea if that was true. He liked to think it was, but then, he had never been outside this room.

“Oh? And when there’s a knife to your throat, will that fact be a comfort to you?”

“I know you want to protect me, Helen. I know I’m only alive because of you and I will always be grateful for what you’ve done for me. But I am not a child any longer and I can’t live my life like a bird in a cage.”

“Better a bird in a cage than the meal on someone’s plate.”

Becker pushed his hands up into his hair, tugging at the ends. He didn’t like the way Helen stared when he did it. “I’m tired of hiding. I want… I want to _see_ things, see the world, have a conversation with someone.”

“We all want things. That doesn’t mean we can have them.”

“What can I have, then? An actual life? A life that’s worth living? Every day I stay here has become like a misery.” Becker hadn’t realised how true that was until he said it out loud.

“Where is this coming from? You’ve never spoken like this before.” Helen narrowed her eyes. “Is this about that man I saw? Did you let him up here? Did you talk to him?”

“It doesn’t matter.”

“It most certainly does matter! It matters if he’s been filling your head with nonsense, with lies--”

“You can’t keep me here forever!” Becker shouted.

Helen matched his tone and added an angry gesture. “I will chain you to the bed if that’s what it takes! You don’t know what you’re worth.”

Becker felt as though he’d been hit by a spray of cold water, feeling it soak and chill him to the bone. “No, I think I know exactly what I’m worth to you.”

He turned and stalked over to his bed, throwing himself upon it, keeping his face away from Helen. He heard her leave, quietly, and made no move to assist her out the window.

-

Helen came back later with a meal to share, soup thick with barley and vegetables and warm bread to go with it. It was as much of an apology as Helen was likely ever to give. Becker ate because he was hungry, not enjoying any of it.

“You must know I only want you to be safe,” she said.

“Yes,” Becker said, forcing a small smile that he did not feel. It was enough to appease Helen.

He had begun to realise that she didn’t know him at all.

He had begun to suspect that she had never cared about him the way he had thought she did.

It made his decision far easier to arrive at than it otherwise would have been.

When night fell and Becker knew that Helen would be asleep, he gathered up a small rucksack and dropped the rope over the side of the window ledge. For a long while he simply sat there, staring out into the darkness, at the road beyond the tower.

He had no idea what was out there but one thing had become clear. He could not stay here.

He hoisted himself out of the window and climbed down the rope.


	3. Chapter 3

**_Chapter Two_ **

Becker walked through the night, wanting to put as much distance between himself and the tower as he could. He couldn’t be certain when Helen would notice his absence or what she would do about it, so it was best to get a head start.

“Going somewhere?”

The voice made him start. Coming out of the trees was Lyle, leading his horse. A mad idea sprang into Becker’s head, but then, it didn’t seem quite so mad compared to what he was already doing. “I believe I am running away. Would you care to be my guide?”

A slow smile spread across Lyle’s face. “Thought you’d never ask.”

-

“What exactly is your plan?” Lyle asked as they walked together. They were on a path in the forest, the trees arching overhead to make the sunlight dappled on the ground. They’d stopped for a short rest mid-morning and then travelled on through the afternoon.

“I haven’t thought that far ahead,” Becker admitted. He hadn’t actually thought of anything beyond the act of leaving.

“Ah. Aimless wandering, then. I can support that.”

It wasn’t precisely aimless, Becker wanted to say. How could anything be aimless when he was seeing the world for the first time? Every step he took, every inch of green grass or blue sky, was utterly new. He had blisters forming on his feet and he was loving every second of it.

But how could Becker ever explain that?

“If I might make a suggestion,” Lyle said. “I live a few days’ journey to the northeast. We could head there and then you can decide what you want to do from there. If you’re still in need of my services, I’ll be happy to continue providing them. I’m sure you will be-- they’re very excellent services.” Lyle was grinning.

Becker wanted to roll his eyes. He thought perhaps that he had managed to get stuck in with the most obnoxious man in the country.

“Do you live--” Becker stopped, as Lyle didn’t seem to be paying attention to him. He was standing still, his head cocked as though he was listening, but Lyle waved Becker to continue. “Um. Do you live alone? Or are you... married? Or, I don’t know, do you have siblings? Parents?”

Lyle wasn’t looking at him but he said, “Single. Only child. Father’s dead. Mother lives elsewhere so we don’t kill each other.” He was emptying the saddlebags, removing all the extra gear tied to his horse. Then he began speaking softly to the horse, rubbing his nose. He patted the horse’s rump once and the animal ran off.

“What did you do that for?” Becker asked in astonishment.

Lyle pulled out a dagger from within the gear he had removed from the horse and passed it to Becker. He rested his hand on the hilt of his sword.

A group of men fanned out of the trees, forming a semi-circle around Becker and Lyle. Five of them, all armed, dressed in dusty, ragged travelling clothes.

“That’s why,” Lyle said to Becker. “Do what I tell you and don’t argue. Gentlemen,” he said, louder. “How may I be of service?”

One of the men, a stocky fellow with dark red hair tied back from his face, took a step closer to them. “We’re looking for someone. Perhaps you’ve seen him.”

“I’m afraid we haven’t seen anyone but you fine men.”

“Funny. Your silent friend there matches the description exactly.”

“That is funny. A coincidence, you might say. Well, I’m terribly sorry we can’t help but we’ll be sure to keep an eye out.”

“No need,” the man said. He drew his sword, his companions following suit. “She wants the pretty one alive; try not to bloody him _too_ much. Kill the mouthy one.”

“Shame we can’t do this in a more civilised manner,” Lyle said, shaking his head. “Behind me, Becker.” Then, quick as a blink, he pulled a long knife out of his belt and threw it. It landed with a sick thunk in the centre of the red-haired man’s chest.

He stared down at himself, mouth in an ‘oh’ of surprise, then toppled.

Becker breathed out in a faint gasp.

“Oops,” Lyle said. “Anyone else fancy a go?”

The other men were exchanging glances but, undeterred, they made a run for Lyle. Becker suspected a promise of money was involved, as well as a distinct lack of camaraderie.

“Stay back,” Lyle commanded Becker, even as he himself ran forward, sword outraised. The clash of metal on metal sounded oddly loud.

And, well, bugger staying back. Becker didn’t _exactly_ know how to fight, but he wasn’t a coward and he wasn’t about to let Lyle be hurt defending him. He might never have seen a sword fight outside of his books but he did know that four against one wasn’t good odds, no matter how talented Lyle may be.

He threw himself at one of the men, striking out with his dagger. The man grunted, a trail of blood dripping off his arm. He jerked his head forward, knocking Becker painfully on his nose.

Becker swore, blinking to clear his vision and only barely managing to stop himself from losing his grip on his weapon and bringing his hands to his face. He ducked a swing from the man’s short axe and came up at a low angle, plunging his dagger into the man’s stomach. The man gurgled, dropping his axe and clenching his hands around the dagger’s hilt. He coughed up blood.

His gaze caught by the sight, realising that he’d actually _killed_ a man, it was only Lyle’s shout that got him to move in time to avoid the swing of a sword. Becker crouched down, grabbing the dead man’s axe. It was heavier than he had expected and he didn’t know what to do with it, thrusting awkwardly as his opponent drew near.

He had never been afraid of dying before, but he was now. He was afraid of dying before he’d seen the world, before he’d done anything worth note. Before falling in love, before knowing who he was. He _couldn’t_ die, not here, not now. He couldn’t fall into the hands of whoever was after him.

Becker managed to catch the man on his thigh with the axe, watching the blood spurt. But the man grabbed hold of Becker’s wrist, yanking the blade out and then shoving Becker back until he fell on his arse.

“You won’t be so pretty any more when I’m done with you,” he growled.

The tip of a sword appeared through the front of his chest and then came back out the other side. A spray of blood splashed on Becker’s face.

As the man fell in a heap on the ground, Lyle came into view. He was dirty and bloody and Becker didn’t know if the blood was his or theirs.

“I told you to do what I said,” Lyle said, holding his hand out for Becker to take.

Becker accepted it, letting Lyle help him to his feet. “I thought they’d kill you.”

“What, thugs like them? I could have taken care of this with my eyes closed. Are you all right?”

He was tired and sore and his nose hurt. He had a headache. “I… I killed someone,” Becker said dumbly.

Lyle’s eyes fell to the man Becker had stabbed. “Not quite.” He knelt down beside the dying man. Calmly and deliberately, he pulled the dagger out and aimed it over the man’s heart. “Who sent you?”

The man did nothing but make a few unintelligible sounds, his eyes moving rapidly but seemingly seeing nothing. Lyle sighed and plunged the dagger downwards. Then he wiped it clean and stood back up. “You haven’t killed anyone,” Lyle said, meeting Becker’s eyes. “I have.”

Becker only stared at him, finally following after when Lyle’s form became small in the distance.

-

The remainder of the day passed in silence. Becker didn’t know what to say and he thought that if he spoke, he would only sound stupid.

In the evening they set up camp. Lyle wouldn’t let them have a fire, saying that it would make them too easy to track.

“But who would want to track us?” Becker asked. “Why did those men want me?”

Lyle held Becker’s gaze, his hazel eyes filled with an emotion Becker couldn’t place. “You think about that, Becker. Just think.”

Becker did think, but he was drawing a blank. No one could possibly know about him. Helen had said that dangerous people would want him, would want to hurt him, but how could they know? No one knew who he was. No one knew where he was. It was too great a coincidence that he should be found the very day he had left. Only Helen could know, and of course it couldn’t be her. She might want Becker to come back, but she would never hurt him. She would never have sent those men after him.

“I don’t know,” Becker said, and Lyle didn’t say anything.

-

In the morning, Becker remembered the horse. “Lyle, what about your horse?”

“I sent him home. Couldn’t get both of us away on one horse, not fast enough, so it was safer.”

“But aren’t you worried? What if he gets lost? Or someone steals him?”

Lyle laughed. “He knows the way. And I’d be more worried about the thief if anyone tried to take him-- the one and only time someone attempted to untie him from the tree where I’d left him, he kicked the bloke in the ribs and I ended up having to get medical attention for the bugger who tried to steal my horse.”

Becker chuckled in spite of himself, glad for a reason to push the events of yesterday from his mind. It might be just another day for Lyle, but Becker had never been so frightened in his life. He was afraid of what it meant that he had relished it a little bit, the danger, the way his blood had pumped through his veins.

He wondered if it had been a bad idea to leave the tower, after all.

-

By unspoken agreement, Becker and Lyle kept up a quick pace as they journeyed towards Lyle’s home. They had no way of knowing if anyone else would be tracking them in the hopes of capturing Becker, but it was safe to assume that the answer was likely yes. They never spoke again of what had happened, nor did they air any suspicions about who was responsible.

Becker didn’t want to know what Lyle thought. He was afraid that he already knew.

But that couldn’t be true. It was ridiculous.

Though Becker tried to keep his mind off it all, his thoughts continually wandered back to Lyle. Lyle with his sword and his intelligence, far more dangerous than Becker ever could have guessed from Lyle’s easy-going demeanour, and far more… impressive. He was fairly certain that he wasn’t supposed to think of a companion with quite the level of… of _interest_ that Becker had towards Lyle. Interest wasn’t the right word. He didn’t know what the right word was - he only knew that Lyle had fascinated him since the moment the man had first fallen through Becker’s window, and it was only getting worse.

“Better than your stories?”

“Sorry?” Becker looked sideways at Lyle’s profile.

“Your first experience of the real world. How does it compare?”

“Well, I expect I could have done without the almost dying part.”

“Oh, never mind that,” Lyle said, far too much amusement in the lines of his face. “They were only going to kill me.”

Becker huffed a sound that might have been a laugh, but might also have been something more distressed. He wasn’t certain. “Right, of course. That’s all right, then.”

“It’ll make a good story of your own. Everyone should have an adventure capped off by a near-death experience, that’s what I always say.”

So much for not talking about it. Perhaps making a joke out of the whole thing was the best way to go about it. “In that case, my adventure looks to be rather a good one. Very exciting. I’ve only just begun, after all-- who knows how many more times I’m going to nearly die before it’s finished?”

Lyle clapped him on the shoulder, his hand warm through Becker’s shirt. “That’s the spirit. And, hey, if you manage to not die before we make it to my house, I’ll let you have a ride on Blade.”

“What’s Blade?”

“My horse,” Lyle said.

Becker decided not to ask.

-

They shared bread, cheese, and an apple each for dinner, sitting together in the darkness without the light of a fire. Lyle still wouldn’t let them risk one and Becker knew better than to argue. Luckily the late summer days were long, and the nights warm.

“I’ve been thinking about what you said,” Lyle said.

“What I said?”

“About how you came to be in that tower, living with Helen.”

Becker stared down at his hands. He wished Lyle would give up.

Of course, Becker had the impression that Lyle wasn’t the sort who ever gave up on anything. “It just made me think about this friend of my mother’s. She lost her son when he was a baby. He was taken from her.”

“How terrible,” Becker said without any feeling.

“I was only a boy when it happened; it must’ve been around the time you were a baby. Strange coincidence, don’t you think?”

Becker could feel Lyle’s heavy gaze on him, even if he wasn’t looking. “Did she ever find him?”

“No, and she never stopped trying.”

“My mother never looked for me because she never wanted me to begin with,” Becker said and rolled onto his side, facing away from Lyle. He closed his eyes and resolved not to dream about knights parading through his mind.

He didn’t. Instead he dreamed of Lyle, sword in hand, fighting away demons while he rode on a dark stallion.

-

“We should reach home tomorrow. Late morning, early afternoon,” Lyle said when they broke camp the following night. Another day free of men wanting to do them harm. Though, as if to make up for it, it had rained and now Becker just felt soggy all over.

“Glad to hear it,” Becker said, and he was. It was true that he was curious to see how Lyle lived, but also true that he would be glad to be off the road. The idea of being in a house, near other people, felt somehow safer than wandering about waiting to be set upon by more men.

After they ate, Lyle sat quite close to Becker, so that his knee kept brushing against Becker’s leg. “Weren’t you ever curious?” Lyle asked. “About your parents, I mean?”

Becker bit his tongue until he tasted blood. “Why would I be?” He was proud of the steadiness of his voice.

“I don’t know, maybe because they’re your _parents_? And because they--”

“Because they what? Because they abandoned me?”

“Didn’t they?”

“Not exactly.”

Lyle touched Becker’s knee, as if the gesture would force Becker to be straight with him. “Becker, I need you to tell me the truth. I know I.... I played it off like a joke, but, well, that’s just what I do. But those were hired mercenaries that came after you and they _would_ have killed me. Why were you in that tower?”

Becker gazed into the distance, up at the stars, at anything that wasn’t Lyle’s face. He knew Lyle was right. Becker owed him the truth because Lyle was in danger now, all because he had agreed to help Becker. “I don’t know much about my parents, but I do know that they didn’t abandon me. Helen rescued me from them. There’s something... something special about me, I suppose. Something magic. It’s just... in me, I don’t know. My parents wanted to use me, but Helen saved me. She kept me in that tower, hidden, because it was the only thing that would keep me safe.”

Though Becker wasn’t sure exactly what reaction he had expected to get from Lyle, it certainly wasn’t this. “Safe from what, Becker? Do you even know?”

“I told you!” Becker found himself raising his voice, hardly even meaning to. “From the people who would use what I can do.”

“And who uses it now?”

_Helen,_ was the answer Lyle was looking for, Becker knew. And it would be true. He didn’t say anything.

“You know that the only person who could have known you were anywhere near those woods on that particular day is Helen, don’t you?”

Becker avoided Lyle’s eyes.

“How well do you know Helen, really?”

“Better than I know you,” Becker said. “She’s kept me safe my whole life. It seems to me that it’s far more likely that _you_ put those men on my trail.”

“Of course,” Lyle said, scoffing. “And then I got them to attack me.”

Becker had to admit it did seem pretty far-fetched, not to mention silly. But not any sillier than what Lyle wanted him to believe. “Perhaps you planned it that way, to get me to trust you.”

Lyle outright laughed. “Do I look like some sort of evil mastermind to you?”

“No,” Becker acknowledged. “I suppose you aren’t smart enough, really.”

“Thanks very much, mate,” Lyle said, punching Becker lightly on the shoulder.

When Becker went to sleep, it was with his head pillowed near to Lyle’s bent knees, while Lyle kept watch over him in the darkness.


	4. Chapter 4

**_Chapter Three_ **

The arrival estimate Lyle had made was spot on. The sun was nearly to its zenith when Becker began seeing buildings in the distance, a small cluster of them. Not long after that, the road they were on took them straight into Lyle’s village.

Becker hung just behind Lyle’s shoulder, watching as Lyle waved and smiled and exchanged greetings with people. He was a popular bloke, apparently, and Becker felt awkward even being there. There were just so many people, walking to and fro, some laden with bags and others leading animals, talking and shouting. Children and elderly people and couples in love and it was almost overwhelming.

Just… _people._ Becker had never imagined so many people together in one place. So much bustle and noise and activity and life.

“Take a deep breath,” Lyle said to him, softly, touching Becker’s shoulder.

“Lyle,” a voice called.

Lyle turned, finding a tall man with short blond hair striding up to him. They hugged briefly, clapping each other on the back. “Ryan. Fancy bumping into you.”

The man, Ryan, said, “I put Blade up in your stable. What mess did you manage to land yourself in this time?”

“Oh, you know, the usual. Just some people wanting to kill me.”

“Again?”

“Wasn’t even my fault this time, I swear! It was the company I keep.”

Ryan’s blue eyes slid to Becker. “What, him?”

Rather than attempt to defend himself, as that would likely have led to awkward questions he didn’t want to answer, Becker asked Lyle, “Do people try to kill you that often?”

Lyle grinned. “Oh, you know. It’s happened once or twice.”

“Lyle has a habit of rubbing people the wrong way,” Ryan said, with an air of understatement. “I expect you could’ve gathered that yourself.”

“A little,” Becker said, hiding a smile at the way Lyle pretended to pout. “I’m Becker.”

“Ryan. Nice to meet you,” Ryan said, offering Becker his hand to shake. “How’d you manage to get caught up with him?”

“Bit of a long story, actually,” Lyle said, cutting in. “Tell you later? We’re off to my place at the moment.”

Ryan had a knowing sort of expression in his eyes that, for some reason, made Becker want to blush. “All right, stories later, then.”

As Lyle led Becker off down the road, he said, “Ryan’s a good man, but I thought you might like to think about what you want to tell people, first.”

Becker nodded, feeling grateful. Considering what had happened since he’d left the tower, a bit of caution was certainly advisable.

They walked in silence until, utterly without warning, Lyle grabbed Becker and hauled him off the road, pressing him into the shadows next to a wall.

“Lyle, what--”

Lyle shushed him, hissing, “Stay out of sight!”

That was when Becker noticed the men, three of them, reminding him very much of the mercenaries Lyle had killed. They were strolling through the village, eyes alert, stopping the passers-by every now and then to ask questions. Becker felt rather like he’d stopped breathing, his heart pounding in his chest. He wished Lyle wasn’t crowding him so close. His hand was pressed into the other man's shirt right over Lyle’s heart and he didn’t know how to move it without being completely obvious.

After a few minutes, the men were out of sight. Lyle pulled Becker by the hand and said, “Come on. I want you safely in my house where they can’t see you as soon as possible.”

Becker couldn’t agree more.

-

“How did they know where I was?” Becker asked, once they had reached Lyle’s house.

It was just a small, wooden, one-storey house on the outskirts of the village, resting in a stand of trees. Behind it was the stable, with a stream running nearby. Inside it was plain but comfortable, everything faintly cluttered, with old, worn furniture and lots of colourful, woven blankets.

“It’s possible they didn’t,” Lyle said. “They may only be searching the countryside with no real idea where to find you. Or they may have tracked us, or perhaps it was me. If they know who I am, it would be an easy guess to come here in search of you.”

Becker gazed into the distance, towards an open window. “I’m sorry I got you caught up in my troubles.”

“I’m not.”

That caught Becker’s attention. He focused on Lyle again, searching his face. “You aren’t?”

Lyle shrugged. “I’d rather be in it than have to imagine you locked away in that place, or, worse, out here on your own.”

Becker felt heat rising in his face. He wondered whether it was possible that Lyle actually cared for him.

“Anyway,” Lyle went on, an all too familiar expression in his face, “I like excitement. Keeps me from getting bored.”

“I doubt you need me for that,” Becker said, a shy smile uplifting his lips. “I suspect being around you is never boring.”

Lyle seemed pleased, like Becker had paid him a compliment, and led Becker into the kitchen so they could have a meal.

-

Lyle only had one bed in his house. He suggested that they share it. It was a pretty big bed, or at least seemed so to Becker, but that still didn’t seem like a good idea. In any case, it made Becker’s mind go to places he didn’t think were exactly appropriate and made him feel things he wasn’t used to feeling. So, no. Not a good idea.

When Becker declined, Lyle then offered Becker the bed, saying that he could sleep on the sofa. That didn’t seem fair, as it was Lyle’s house, but Lyle flat-out refused to sleep in the bed. He said that if Becker insisted on taking the sofa, he’d sleep on the floor, and wouldn’t that be a waste of a perfectly suitable bed?

Which was all a very long way of explaining why it was that Becker was waking up with his arm flung over Lyle’s back while Lyle snored face-first into the pillow, his arm hanging off the other side of the bed.

It was an interesting set of sensations. Becker had never slept in the same bed as anyone before. He hadn’t ever even been this close to another person before. Well, aside from all the other times Lyle had got himself up into Becker’s personal space. It was getting to be a bit of a pattern.

A pattern Becker found he enjoyed. After a lifetime lacking in physical closeness, in affection and intimacy, Becker relished the opportunity to just _be_ with someone. Helen may have been many things, but she was not a woman well-suited to filling a child’s need for, say, a hug. Becker didn’t think he’d known how much he’d needed this until he saw it could be different.

He inched a tiny bit closer to Lyle. He liked it this way, where he could be close and it wouldn’t be anything at all, because Lyle was asleep and couldn’t even know. No embarrassment, no awkwardness. Lyle would never know that Becker dreamed about him, had dreamed of kissing him like a prince in a fairy tale.

In all of Becker’s stories, only the princesses had ever kissed the princes. He was sure there must be something terribly wrong with him because he had never wanted to kiss a princess.

Lyle began to stir and Becker rolled over, taking his limbs with him. He got up, deciding it would be the perfect time to wash his face.

He hoped the water was cold.

-

“Can he carry both of us?” Becker asked, stroking the neck of Lyle’s horse. “It’s just that I don’t know how to ride on my own.”

“He’s a strong lad, don’t fret a hair on your pretty head,” Lyle insisted as he adjusted the girth of the saddle.

Blade whickered as if to communicate his agreement, nudging Becker with his nose. Becker chuckled and said, “I’ll give you an apple later, if you don’t throw me.”

Lyle faked a gasp. “He would never,” he said, propelling himself into the saddle and then holding out his hand for Becker.

Becker took another look at Blade’s huge brown eyes, mouthing, “Apple, I promise,” and then accepted Lyle’s hand up. He made it up onto the horse with precious little grace, settling in behind Lyle. Cautiously he rested his hands on Lyle’s hips.

“You can hold tighter than that,” Lyle said, and with a nudge of his foot to Blade’s side, Blade started off into a trot.

After Becker nearly was jostled out of the saddle, not expecting to be bounced quite so much, he squeezed his arms around Lyle’s waist rather tighter. He ignored Lyle’s amused laugh and didn’t let himself picture the smirk he knew must be on Lyle’s face.

“Faster?” Lyle said.

“Faster,” Becker agreed immediately, holding onto Lyle as Blade sped up into a gallop. He felt the wind in his hair and the sun on his face, watching as the trees to either side sped by in a blur. Blade splashed through the stream, the water catching Becker on his legs. He felt alive like this, like the world was spread out before him, ready for the taking. It was like freedom.

A laugh burst out of him, a sound filled with the sort of joy he had never experienced before.

This was freedom, and life, and Becker thought he could never get enough.

-

On the third day of Becker’s stay, Lyle went into the village to pick up a few things and to discreetly find out if anything had come of those men they had seen on their arrival. On his own, for reasons he didn’t need to explain. Becker felt stupid, staying back like he was the damsel in distress he had so insisted he wasn’t, but he didn’t know what else to do. He couldn’t be found.

He wondered if Lyle would teach him to fight. It would be something, at least.

Becker whiled away the hours wandering through Lyle’s rooms, looking at his books and his possessions. Only what was left out, as he wasn’t quite rude enough to go searching through what wasn’t his. He went to the stable and visited Blade, wishing he knew how to go riding on his own. For a brief moment he considered trying bareback, but then decided that even if he could manage to get up onto Blade’s back, which he highly doubted, he wouldn’t even know where to hold. Did you clench your hands in the mane? That seemed rude.

Eventually he found some paper and ink, and spent the rest of the time drawing. That was how Lyle found him, coming home laden with purchases.

As Becker helped Lyle put everything away, Lyle said casually, “I bumped into some friends in town today. The couple I told you about? The ones who lost their baby?”

“Oh?” Becker said. He couldn’t help but feel a mite suspicious.

“Thought we might meet them tomorrow for tea. How does that sound?”

“Fine, I suppose,” Becker said, as he didn’t think Lyle would accept a ‘no’ even if Becker gave him one. It smelled like a set-up but Becker reckoned he could humour the man. It couldn’t hurt anything, in any case.

“Great,” Lyle said. “Now, how do you feel about mutton? Because I bought a lovely shoulder from the butcher and we’d better get started if we don’t want to be eating it tomorrow instead of tonight.”

-

That night, they lay on their backs on the grass behind Lyle’s house, gazing up at the stars. Becker folded his hands over his middle and thought of nights in the tower, when he’d sat in the window and wondered about what was beyond, about how far he would need to go to see different stars. Lyle’s shoulder was pressed into his and it warmed him all the way through.

“Have you given any thought to your future?” Lyle’s voice seemed loud in the quiet.

“Is that your attempt at subtly nudging me out of your house?”

“Course not. You look pretty on my sofa. No one would ever give me any fuss about decorating again.”

Becker could hear the grin in Lyle’s voice. “Are you equating me to a vase of flowers?”

“No, you’re worth a painting at least. A nice one.”

“That’s generous of you.”

“I thought so.”

But it had been a serious question that deserved a serious answer. The problem was that Becker didn’t know precisely how to answer it. “I can’t go on until I discover why those men are hunting me, what they want and who sent them, but I don’t know how to find out. I know I can’t hide here forever, but I can’t keep running, either. Helen always said it would be like this, that nowhere would ever be safe for me, but I… I can’t just go back.”

“No, you can’t.”

They were silent again because Becker, for one, didn’t know what else to say, and he couldn’t begin to fathom what Lyle might be thinking.

Then Lyle said, “You could leave.”

Becker turned his head so he could see Lyle’s profile in the darkness. “What?”

Lyle looked more serious than Becker had ever seen him, perhaps even more so than when the mercenaries had discovered them in the woods. “You and me, we could leave. I don’t have anything keeping me here and I don’t think you do, either. We could just go, far away, wherever the whim takes us. They won’t hunt you forever. We could go where no one knows you, where you’re just another face in the crowd.”

Taking a second to digest that, Becker processed it the only way he could - he made a joke of it. “Are you asking me to run away with you?”

“Not exactly, but since you put it like that… Actually, yeah, I might be.”

Becker sniffed prissily. “Well, I’m not that kind of girl.”

“We could elope first, to protect your virtue.”

“How kind. Don’t you even want to get to know me better?”

Lyle waggled his eyebrows. “Plenty of time for that after.”

Unable to stop himself any more, Becker started laughing. He knew it was inappropriate and he couldn’t make a joke of his future forever, but he thought if he didn’t laugh, if he hadn’t had Lyle to make him feel like this, he would have given up the moment he’d realised he was being tracked.

Beside him in the grass, Lyle was only watching him, a slight smile curving his mouth. When Becker settled again, Lyle said, “What if you weren’t alone? Becker, what if you weren’t? What if you had a family that--”

“I don’t,” Becker said, cutting him off. “There’s no point wasting time wishing for things that aren’t true. Helen is my family and she isn’t here any more.” Helen. What must she be thinking? Becker felt a twinge of guilt. She might not have loved him the way he wanted her to, but Helen had cared for him his entire life. He was only alive because of her. She deserved better than to lose him like this, without a word.

Thankfully, Lyle let it go. When next he spoke, though, his voice was hesitant, low and cautious and filled with an emotion Becker was afraid to categorise. “I mean it, you know. I’ll go with you anywhere you want. I’ll follow you to the other side of the world if that’s how far you need to go to be safe.”

Becker stared at him, searching Lyle’s eyes. “I know you would,” he said, not entirely certain why he wasn’t more surprised. He just… knew it. He knew that Lyle meant every word.

Lyle reached out, brushing his hand through Becker’s hair, stroking his palm down over the side of Becker’s face.

Becker’s heart was thumping in his chest but he wasn’t afraid. This was different, this was right.

Lyle kissed him, there beneath the stars. It was light and sweet, the sort of kiss Becker had read about hundreds of times in his books, and yet not the same at all. Because it was real, and it was Lyle, and Becker wasn’t a princess but Lyle wasn’t a prince, either.

His fingers curled around blades of grass and Lyle pulled away, settling again flat onto his back.

Becker dozed to the sound of crickets chirping in the night, the memory of Lyle’s mouth on his firm in his mind.


	5. Chapter 5

**_Chapter Four_ **

Lyle’s friends lived a good hour’s walk away, but the day was fine and sunny and Becker enjoyed the brisk pace Lyle set. The breeze ruffled his hair and the birds chirped a constant chorus in the trees.

When they arrived, a pretty black-haired woman answered the door. Judging by how taken aback Lyle appeared, she wasn’t the person he had been expecting. “Sarah! What are you doing here?”

“Is that all you’ve got?” the woman, Sarah, apparently, said, holding her arms wide.

Lyle quirked a smile at her and swept her up in a hug, planting a kiss on her cheek before releasing her. “It’s been a while,” he said.

“Too long,” Sarah said, matching his smile. “There, now, that’s much better. James and Claudia were called out unexpectedly so they asked me to meet you. They shouldn’t be long, so why don’t you come inside?” She stepped to the side to allow them through the door.

As Becker passed her, Sarah asked teasingly, “Are you ever going to introduce me to your handsome new friend, Lyle?”

“Ugh, my manners,” Lyle said, his smile edging into cheeky. “You’d think I’d been raised in a barn. This is Becker. Becker, meet Sarah. She’s trouble; better not let her catch you alone.”

Sarah smacked Lyle on the arm. “Ignore him, he’s a liar. But I suppose you must know that already, if you’ve been traveling with him.”

“He does have a tendency towards exaggeration and embellishment,” Becker agreed.

“Oi,” Lyle said, pretending to be offended. “No, you know, never mind, that’s entirely true.”

“Into the parlour with you,” Sarah said. “I’ll make some tea.”

Upon walking through the hall, Becker was struck by the oddest sensation. He felt as though he’d been here before, though of course that was impossible. Becker hadn’t been anywhere but the tower for as long as his memory stretched.

The house was modestly furnished, practical and comfortable with few decorations. A vase of fresh flowers here and there, small paintings. Becker remembered Lyle saying that the couple who lived here had sold off many of their possessions to aid in the search for their lost son.

In the parlour, there was a portrait above the fireplace. A pretty woman with soft brown hair curling loosely around her face, holding a dark-haired baby in her lap. Her husband stood at her side, his hand upon her shoulder. The way he smiled with affection as he looked at his family softened the sternness of his features.

Becker felt flushed and uncomfortable and the last thing he wanted was to make conversation with Lyle and Sarah, who no doubt was lovely, but was a stranger to Becker. He wanted... He needed... “I need a moment,” he mumbled, darting out of the room before anyone could protest.

He came out into the hallway and turned down it. He walked past what were no doubt family portraits, stretching back generations. He climbed the stairs, feeling nearly as though he were in a daze. At the end of the hall was a closed door and it was there that Becker made his way, like he was on a lead being pulled.

He opened the door into a room filled with light, the curtains hanging open so that sunlight streamed in through the large windows. It felt airy, as though the windows were never kept closed. The room had clearly been a nursery, with children’s playthings scattered about and a crib placed prominently. Though it wasn’t in use, it appeared that nothing had been altered since the last moment a baby had been in this house.

Slowly, Becker’s steps took him close to the crib. Above it hung a mobile, spinning gently in the breeze. Horses paraded in a circle, brown and black and white, with tiny figures of knights upon their backs. Becker closed his eyes and he could see it, hanging above his head. He could see himself reach up to touch, see his chubby fingers, hear the sound of laughter in the background, the voices of those who loved him, loved him more than anything, he could feel the warm embrace of--

Becker fled the room so quickly that he nearly tumbled down the stairs, flying out the door and into the surrounding countryside. His breath was coming too fast, in harsh gasps that didn’t seem to be accomplishing what they should. He raised his hands to his hair, clenching his fingers in it and tugging. It couldn’t be; it was impossible. It just couldn’t.

After a while he realised that someone was calling his name, over and over, and he turned to find Lyle standing there, holding his hand out uselessly as though transfixed betwixt two plans of action and unable to make up his mind.

“I,” Becker said, and couldn’t finish.

“What in God’s name is the matter?” Lyle asked. “You ran out of there like demons of hell were after you and you look as though you’ve seen a ghost. You’re white as a sheet.”

“You said...” Becker swallowed. “You said these people were your friends.”

“Yes. My mother’s dear companions.”

“You said they lost their baby and could never find him, no matter how they searched.”

“Yes.” There was something in Lyle’s eyes, a hope that was begging confirmation, and Becker wanted desperately to give it.

But he couldn’t. It was _impossible._

His parents had never wanted him. They had never loved him. They had loved only what he could do for them. Helen said... Helen said...

“I have to go,” Becker said, and began striding briskly in the direction which he thought must be back to the tower. He hoped he was right. Getting lost would be dreadfully embarrassing.

“Stop,” Lyle said, coming after him. “Becker, stop, what are you doing?”

“I’m going home,” Becker said, the last word seeming to stick in his throat. _Home._ He wished he knew what that actually meant.

“What? Back to the tower? But Becker--”

“Just leave me be!” Becker said, voice upraised. He stopped so quickly that Lyle nearly slammed into him. “You’ve got nothing to do with it.”

Lyle looked hurt, his hazel eyes filled with distress. “But I thought...”

“I told you,” Becker said harshly, not even knowing why he was doing this. He just couldn’t say what was in his heart, he couldn’t tell Lyle any of it. He needed to see Helen and that was all. “I needed you to be my guide and now I don’t need one any more. I have no need of you.”

He turned on his heel so he wouldn’t have to see the expression on Lyle’s face.

He should never have gone with Lyle in the first place.

-

If Becker had been in a better state of mind, he probably would have realised the foolishness and the recklessness of racing off by himself. The world was still largely unknown to him and the dangers he had been warned against were all too real. It was probably lucky that he made it back to the tower at all.

“Helen! Helen,” Becker shouted, pacing around to the small cottage near the base of the tower, where Helen slept.

She came out immediately, eyes flashing. “Where the hell have you been? What’s wrong with you? I told you over and over, it isn’t safe! What if someone had--”

“Did you steal me?” Becker asked, talking over her. “Did you steal me from my parents?”

Helen stopped short, her hand fluttering in the air in front of her heart. “What?”

“Did you take me from them?”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Helen said, quickly regaining control, but it was too late.

“When you said it wasn’t safe for me,” Becker began, then swallowed. “When you said that, you... You’ve been _hiding_ me. You took me from my parents so you could _use_ me! You sent those men after me! You’re the one I should have been afraid of!” Lyle was right. Lyle had been right all along and Becker had refused to listen.

“You’re talking nonsense,” Helen said briskly. “Just calm down. Go up to your room and lie down, I’ll bring you some soup.”

“I don’t want soup!”

“Becker--”

“You can’t force me any more! I won’t go up there, I won’t stay with you another second.” Becker felt like needles were pricking at his eyes, like he wanted to break down and sob because the one person he thought had cared, the only person he’d ever had... It was all a lie. His life had been nothing and it was because of Helen.

He should have listened to Lyle. Becker should never have pushed him away.

“I never wanted it to come to this,” Helen said, and that was the last thing Becker remembered before everything went black.

-

When Becker regained consciousness, he was in his bed in the tower. He was also bound.

Blinking rapidly to try to clear some of the fogginess from his head, he focused on the shape of Helen standing at the foot of the bed. “Helen?”

Her smile was wicked. “My skill with herbs goes a lot farther than you ever knew.”

“You drugged me?”

“In a manner of speaking.”

Becker pulled at the ropes tying him to the bed. “Let me go!”

“I’m afraid not. Now, we could have kept on quite happily, if only you’d behaved. It was that man, wasn’t it? Lyle? Such a terrible influence.”

“What do you want with me?”

Helen rolled her shoulders in a shrug. “What I’ve always wanted.”

Becker looked away from her because he couldn’t bear to look at her face any more. At least he had overcome that horrible urge to cry.

“Your parents really should have listened to me,” Helen said musingly. “Stupid, both of them. Too blinded by what I was offering to heed the warning.”

Becker’s hands curled into fists.

“Well, their loss was my gain. Sit still a moment, will you?” Helen chuckled to herself at her own little joke. “I’m going to fetch my scissors.”

As she turned away, Becker concentrated on trying to get free. Helen hadn’t bothered much with his legs, simply looping some rope around his crossed ankles but not tying them down, as she apparently was confident enough at holding him. It enabled him to get a bit more leverage as he tried to pull his right arm free. As of yet, though, he was only succeeding in giving himself a painful rope burn.

A faint sound reached Becker’s ears. His gaze flew to the window below but he couldn’t see anything from his current angle. He couldn’t see Helen, either.

And then Lyle nearly toppled over onto the floor in front of the window.

Becker gasped and then quieted himself. If Helen had gone below, to the storage area underneath Becker’s room, perhaps she wouldn’t have heard. She wouldn’t know Lyle was there and they could get out, they could leave all this behind, Helen and Becker’s stupid mistakes and all of it.

Lyle had offered to run away with him, once. Becker wondered if he still would.

Lyle was racing up the steps to Becker’s bed. He knelt at Becker’s side, a knife in his hand. His smile was as familiar as ever. “It looks like you’re in need of a rescue after all, princess,” he said softly.

“I had everything under control,” Becker insisted, but he didn’t object as Lyle slit the ropes that bound him in place. Lyle must have been following him the whole way. He wanted to be angry but he wasn’t, he wasn’t at all.

“Up, then,” Lyle said, and his eyes were on Becker’s face. He couldn’t see -

“Lyle!” Becker cried, trying to shove him to the ground.

It was too late. Helen growled something in words Becker couldn’t understand and Lyle screamed, his hands going to his eyes. Blood seeped out from between his fingers.

Becker rolled off the opposite side of the bed and onto the floor, using it as a barrier between him and Helen. He blocked out Lyle’s choked, pained gasping and crawled beneath the bed. His fingers curled around Lyle’s abandoned knife.

“He should have stayed away,” Helen said, like Lyle’s life meant nothing to her. “Really, Becker, you can thank yourself for this. You should never have let down the rope.”

Becker listened to her feet upon the steps, staying still until he could see her toes.

“No,” Becker said, springing to his feet. “I should never have listened to you.”

He knew then that his parents had always, always loved him, but Helen never had. It made what Becker was about to do a lot easier.

He plunged the knife straight into Helen’s heart and watched her eyes go dim. She sagged to the floor and Becker let her drop.

In an instant Becker was on the floor beside Lyle, gathering Lyle to himself. “Jon,” he said. “Jon, I’m sorry, I should never have got you involved. What has she done to you?” He pressed his hands to either side of Lyle’s face, all too conscious of the streaks of blood.

Lyle’s face was slack with pain and he pulled his hands away, revealing the mess that Helen had made of his eyes. He leaned forward into Becker’s chest, one hand coming up to slide through Becker’s hair. “Some rescue that was,” he said, his voice thick and uneven. “Good job I don’t charge or you’d have to ask for your money back.”

“Jon,” Becker said, hardly recognising the sound of his own voice.

Then he realised it was because he had started to cry, after all. This was his fault, all of it, and Lyle would never see again. All because he’d been stupid enough to think Becker was worth his time.

A tear dripped off the end of his nose to fall onto Lyle’s skin.

Something was glowing. It took Becker a second to realise that it was him - his hair was glowing golden, the light filling the room. The light radiated outwards, enveloping Lyle.

The blood was gone from Lyle’s face.

Lyle opened his eyes and all Becker could see was hazel.

“Were you always this gorgeous?” Lyle asked, his fingers coming to rest on Becker’s cheek, and Becker just laughed and laughed. 

-

**_Epilogue_ **

Becker fidgeted. He pulled at the end of his shirt.

“You look perfect, as always,” Lyle said, nudging him.

“Maybe this is a bad idea. They wanted their baby back; they don’t want some strange man they don’t even know.”

“Don’t be an idiot,” Lyle said cheerfully. “They never stopped missing you, not once over all those years. You’re going to make them happier than they’ve ever been.”

“I still think--” Becker started but then it was too late. The door opened and now there wasn’t any turning back.

A woman stepped outside. Though she was older than the face in the portrait above her fireplace, she still had the same beauty, the same warmth in her features. After her came a man, his face thinner and more lined but his eyes the same grey-green in his portrait.

The woman’s eyes filled with tears. “Hilary?”

Becker stood there, as though he was frozen in place. His heart felt like it might beat straight out of his chest.

Lyle shoved him in the back until he stumbled forward.

The woman held out her arms and Becker just about ran into them. “Hilary,” she said, over and over, sounding like she was crying, clutching her arms around him.

Becker buried his face into her hair. “Mother,” he said, thinking it was the most beautiful word in the English language. She smelled like lilies and everything sweet and Becker remembered this, he remembered.

“James, you silly man, come here,” Claudia urged, stretching one arm out to her husband.

Glancing up, Becker watched his father hesitate, warring emotions in his face. Becker slightly disentangled himself from his mother and said, “Father?”

That was enough to bring James forward, hugging his arms around both Becker and Claudia. “Oh, my boy,” he said, “my son. We never stopped hoping and praying you would come back to us.”

Becker stood there in the embrace of the parents who had lost him but never stopped looking, and finally, finally understood that he was loved.

He was home.

**_End_ **


End file.
